


The Startling Yuletide Epiphany of Dan Rydell

by Cori Lannam (corilannam)



Category: Sports Night
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corilannam/pseuds/Cori%20Lannam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan is having a Christmas crisis (or maybe a Casey crisis) and finds an innocent victim to help him figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Startling Yuletide Epiphany of Dan Rydell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phoebesmum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoebesmum/gifts).



He judged the angle; he aimed; he fired.

The small rubber ball made a swirling streak of red and green before it struck the unseen target on the clinically blank wall. It bounced and sailed in a lazy arc back to his hand. He closed his fist around it and pumped it once in the air.

"And that's the game, folks." He let his hand drop onto his knee and paused for a commercial break.

After a minute of meditative boredom, he shifted in the rigid vinyl chair and craned his neck to look at the nameplate on the wall over his head. It read the same as it had for the last half hour: A.H. Feingold, M.D., PsyD.

He fished the torn-out yellow page from his jeans pocket, unfolded it to check the listing against the name, then refolded it. He turned the square around and over between his fingers before shoving it back in his pocket.

Maybe talking his way past the lonely night guard on his holiday overtime had been the wrong idea. The guard had recognized him; they could have been having a nice chat about sports, which might have drowned out the low buzz of anxiety encroaching from the depths of his head.

At the end of the silent hallway, the elevator rumbled, then dinged.

"Finally," he mumbled, tossing the ball in the air and catching it before standing up just as the elevator doors slid open.

A tall man stepped out, rail thin under a bulky scarf and coat. He paused in brushing the wet snow clumps from his shoulders when he spotted his visitor. "Mr. Rydell, I presume."

"Dr. Feingold." Dan stepped forward and seized the doctor's gloved hand for an enthusiastic shake. "Thanks for agreeing to see me on Christmas."

"Not a particular problem, as I'm sure you've guessed." The doctor blinked at him through thick-rimmed spectacles over a salt and pepper beard. A small glob of snow dripped from the brim of his tweed hat to roll down the length of a very fine nose.

Yes, Dan exulted silently. Now this was what a real doctor should look like. No more pretty girls with their pretty smiles where you couldn't tell from one minute to the next whether they were trying to get into your pants or your head.

The doctor rubbed the snow from his nose with an air of vague confusion. "You sounded very urgent on the phone, Mr. Rydell. Although I feel I should note again that I don't generally see other doctors' patients without a prior arrangement and evaluation, even on holidays."

"It is definitely extremely urgent," Dan said with an emphatic two-handed gesture that couldn't express just how urgent it really was. "My usual therapist is in Hawaii until after New Year's."

"So I understood from her answering service."

"Plus, she's been getting a little weird on me lately."

The doctor paused again in the middle of switching his briefcase to the other hand to get at the snow on his other shoulder. "I beg your pardon?"

Dan smiled brightly. "Can I take that for you?"

"Thank you," the doctor replied cautiously, letting Dan take his briefcase so he could fumble in his coat pocket for his keys. "Forgive me for jumping right in before we even get in the door, but you said you were in crisis?"

"Yes." Dan nodded as the doctor unlocked the door of the outer office. "Well, I'm having a crisis of sorts."

"What sort of crisis are you having?"

"I guess you could call it a Christmas crisis."

The doctor stopped halfway through the doorway and looked back at Dan over his shoulder. "I beg your pardon?" he said again.

"Maybe you want to sit down first," Dan offered. "It might take a while."

"I see." The lights came on, revealing a tiny but well-appointed reception area. Dan followed the doctor past the magazine racks, noting with approval the Time Out New York with his picture on the cover. A few months old now, but worth keeping around in Dan's humble opinion.

"Just for context," he said as the doctor flipped on the lights in the small, book-packed office beyond. "Do you know who I am?"

"I am aware of your occupation, Mr. Rydell, if that is the purpose of your question." The doctor set his briefcase down on his desk, then began to unwind himself from his winter wrappings. "I would not venture to claim any further knowledge of your being, earthly or non-corporeal, not until we've at least had a chance to take our coats off."

"I like you," Dan decided as he shrugged off his own parka. "And at least that puts us on equal footing."

After enough sessions with Abby and a couple of her colleagues, Dan could read the layout of any shrink's office well enough to navigate. He flopped down in the chair meant for the shrinkee and let himself sprawl to show he was comfortable and confident here.

"Yes, yes, well, with the exception of my degrees and your salary, I suppose we are." The doctor chuckled as he wrestled off his coat and shook it vigorously to dislodge the last clumps of snow.

"Have you seen the show?" Dan asked before he could help himself. Damn. Abby would mock him. Someday he was really going to stop doing that with the new doctors.

"No, I'm afraid I'm more of a movie buff than a sports nuts." He chuckled again, amused at himself. "More knowledgeable about Lucas than luge, I'm afraid."

Dan smiled in appreciation of the alliteration. He'd have to repeat that one to Casey. "Tell you the truth, I'm not all that hip to the luge world myself. But you should check us out sometime. I'm told we have witty dialogue."

"Maybe I'll do that. My son-in-law is a big fan." He came around the desk with pad and pen in hand. "In fact, I had to be sure he wasn't around when I took down your particulars or he would have demanded an autograph. How unprofessional would that have been!"

Dan laughed along with him, then on impulse jumped up and went out to retrieve the magazine with his face on it.

"You got a pen?" he asked even as he grabbed one from the coffee mug on the desk. "What's your son-in-law's name?"

"David," the doctor said, looking bemused.

"Good name. I have a brother called David," Dan said absently as he scribbled an inscription across the cover, putting in just enough personal warmth for a guy he'd never met. "There you go. Happy holidays."

"Thank you," the doctor said with solemnity as he accepted the magazine and set it aside. "Now, why don't we spend some time talking about what brought us together on a snowy Christmas afternoon?"

Dan plopped back into the chair. It was broken-in leather, probably the most comfortable one of its kind he'd sat in. "Right. Christmas."

The doctor waited a beat as Dan frowned and tried to untangle the threads of his discontent. "It's not unusual," the doctor said at last, gently. "And forgive me the assumption, but it's particularly not unusual for a young Jewish person to have difficulty with the Christmas holiday."

"No, that's definitely not the problem. I love Christmas."

"Oh." The doctor blinked, owlish behind his thick glasses. "I apologize. I assume you chose me with a certain intent."

"Well, that's true," said Dan, who had gone through the phone book twice before settling on Abraham Hiram Feingold as the most likely candidate to actually answer the phone on Christmas Day. "Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely Jewish. Not Jewish enough for my mother, of course, but neither is our rabbi, so I don't worry too much about it."

"I see." The doctor made a brief notation on his pad. Dan didn't look, but in his imagination it read: Dan Rydell &lt; rabbi &lt; Jew. "So if your Judaism is not the cause, perhaps you should explain the exact nature of your crisis to me further so that we may uncover the reasons for it."

"See, here's the thing," Dan said. "Like I said, I love Christmas. Always have, ever since I was a kid."

The pen paused over the pad as though derailed in the midst of a thought. "Now that does seem somewhat unusual," the doctor murmured. "Did your family celebrate?"

"No, of course not." Dan laughed. "Didn't you just hear me about my mother?"

"Many come from mixed families with dual celebrations."

"Not my family. But they did send my brothers and me to a mixed school."

"Were you the only Jewish children there?"

"No, but pretty close. It wasn't usually a big deal, but around the holidays we stood out a little more."

"And you don't like standing out?"

"I love standing out."

"What don't you like?"

Dan cocked his head and considered. "Being left out. At least that's what Casey always says my problem is."

"Casey?"

"My partner," he said, then clarified to forestall the notes the doctor was starting to make. "My co-anchor, Casey McCall. Best friend since I don't even know when. Usually I spend Christmas with him, actually, one way or another."

"Interesting." The doctor continued with his notes anyway. "Does that include when you were a child?"

"No, I wish." Dan slouched down a little further in the chair and huffed a laugh. "No, it was just me and my brothers back then. My older brother, David, didn't want anything to do with the reindeer ornaments or the Christmas carols, but my younger brother, Sam, was thrilled when I told him Santa would bring us presents even though we were Jewish if we just wrote him a letter along with the rest of my class."

"And how did your parents feel about that?"

"All I really remember is my father standing in the doorway looking disappointed while my mother wept on the phone in the next room." Dan shrugged. "Safe to say they weren't happy about it, but eventually we all got over it."

"What about other holidays?"

"Oh, I love those, too. I love the festivals. Latkes and candles at Chanukah. Seders at Pesach. In fact, we've started having a big seder for everyone at the office. It's a blast. You wouldn't think it to look at them, but our goyim got some soul."

"That's good to hear, though I was referring to the other popular Christian holidays. Easter, for example?"

"Right. Not really loving the rest of them so much. I made an effort during Easter when I was a kid, but let's face it, no matter how many chocolate bunnies you eat, you're still the guy who nailed their god to a tree, right?"

"I see your point. So what made Christmas stick?"

"Well, if you ignore the religious parts—and most people do anyway, right?—it's just socially enforced merriment, every year like clockwork." Dan grinned. "And it turns out that enforced merriment is exactly my kind of thing."

"So you celebrate with your partner?"

The grin faded and Dan shrugged a little. "Yeah, we try to do something most years. Sometimes a movie, sometimes I go over for dinner. It wasn't always easy with Casey's ex-wife. The only times I was there for the whole holiday was on Charlie's first Christmas, and then again a couple of years ago when they were about to get divorced."

"Charlie is Casey's child, I assume?"

"Yeah," Dan said, his grin returning full force. "Greatest kid in the world, no lie. I love him like he's mine."

"Is that why you spent Christmas with them two years ago? To help Charlie with the divorce?"

"I... sort of. I was surprised when Casey invited me, almost begged me to come spend the whole weekend. He and Lisa couldn't speak to each other without fighting at that point. I think Case wanted me there as a buffer for him as much as Charlie."

"Did that keep them from fighting?"

Dan shifted in the chair and looked up at the dark corner of the ceiling. He'd never get rid of that memory: sitting with Charlie in the living room, trying desperately to distract him with a new video game while Lisa and Casey screamed at each other in the kitchen. "I think I just gave them more ammunition. I remember Lisa yelling at Casey, something about how dare he bring me there and parade me in front of her and their son. Like I was the other woman or something."

The doctor made a contemplative humming sound deep in his throat and scribbled something else across the full width of the notepad. This time Dan did crane his neck to see it, but the scrawl might as well have been musical notes for all he could read of it.

"Did you talk about that with Casey?" the doctor said once he was done with his notes.

"Strangely, yes," Dan said. "Usually Casey would rather die than talk about what was going on with Lisa, but as I was leaving, he apologized for what happened. I asked him what all that was about, but he just said it wasn't my burden to bear. That he never should have brought me into it."

"That's an interesting thing to say." Another line of notes scrawled across the paper. "I assume that the marriage is now over."

"Oh, yes. Quite over. I was just happy he came out of it more or less in one piece."

"And how is Casey spending Christmas this year?"

Dan started to answer, but something in his chest ground his thoughts to a strange and unsettled halt. "I don't really know. I figured he'd go see Charlie, so I didn't say anything to him after last night's show. But Isaac—that's our boss—said he was pretty sure Casey wasn't going out there until tomorrow."

"But your friend didn't say anything to you about it?"

"Nope. That's kind of weird, don't you think?"

"Am I right that in previous years you have enjoyed the Christmas holiday, even in such unpleasant circumstances as you just described? But that this year, you are not enjoying the holiday at all, and this is whence your emotional disquiet is arising?"

"Yes!" Dan straightened up in the chair. For once, it was a pleasure to have a shrink put their finger on his issues. Now he could stop trying to explain it all. "I knew you were good the minute I saw your name. I love Christmas, but this year it just sucks, and I don't know why."

"Don't you?"

"What?" Dan blinked at him for a moment, hoping the doctor wasn't as befuddled as he looked as he blinked back. "Do you?"

"Mr. Rydell, I can certainly see why your therapist keeps you as a client. I can also see why she went to Hawaii and is not taking any calls. You are a complex case, and we have not even begun to uncover your many psychological issues."

"I think that's a given." Dan arched his eyebrows and tried to look winning. "C'mon, Doc, I can tell you've figured it out. You've got that same smug look Abby gets when she's about to rock my world."

The doctor set his pad aside and leaned back in his chair. "I believe this is something you need to follow up with your own doctor, of course. But in the interest of giving you food for thought, and since I have already taken your money, I will give you the rough guesses I have come to over the short period of our acquaintance."

Dan leaned forward eagerly. "I'm all ears. Lay it on me."

"I believe that beneath your delight in the Christmas season lies a great discomfort with your own identity, which either stems from or has led to a sense of emotional and spiritual distance from your family." The doctor reached for his pad, checked something on it, then nodded to himself with a soft grunt.

After waiting a beat, Dan leaned forward a little more. "No offense, but I kind of figured that one out myself. Any tips on why this Christmas is different?"

"I was not finished, young man," the doctor said gently, tapping the pad against the arm of his chair.

"Sorry," Dan said, feeling like he'd been called in front of Isaac.

"To compensate for that distance, you have created a new emotional family around your working partner, Mr. McCall, with whom you seem to share a codependent and strongly homosocial bond."

"Um," Dan said.

"Mr. McCall, though apparently having no prioritized family plans, has not chosen to spend the holiday with you, which upsets you on a deep subconscious level for reasons you probably know, but would prefer not to think about."

"Doc, are you calling me—" Dan stopped and felt his mouth drop open. "Oh. You're right."

"Am I?" The doctor suddenly beamed at him with pleasure.

"Yes. Casey's gay."

The beam turned to a frown. "I beg your pardon?"

"He's gay and in love with me. Probably forever, and who can blame him?" Dan sat on the edge of the chair and gesticulated wildly. "This explains everything. Why he stayed married to that poisonous bitch. What Lisa said that one time. Man, it even explains Dana."

"Who is Dana?" The doctor looked more befuddled than ever, but Dan just grinned at him.

"Doc, you're a genius," he said, jumping up and grabbing the doctor's hand to shake it hard. "I'm all fixed now, everything's groovy. You enjoy the rest of your day off, okay?"

"Thank you," the doctor replied as he awkwardly extracted his hand before Dan could fly out the door with it.

He was in the lobby before he realized he had left his coat back in the doctor's office, but it didn't matter. "That's right," he muttered to himself, waving to the solitary night guard as he headed for the revolving door. "Christmas is gonna be good again."

"Hey, man, did you forget your coat?" the guard called from the desk.

"Don't worry about it!" Dan called back with another wave. "Christmas is good again!"

"Okay, man, whatever," he heard just as the blast of cold air hit him from the street.

The walk to Casey's apartment was longer than he'd anticipated, 52nd Street was a wind tunnel, and he'd left his wallet in his coat pocket, though for once cabs were plentiful. He smiled brightly as he pushed through the tourists coming back from the Rockefeller Center tree. They stared at him, either because of his celebrity or because he looked vaguely crazed tearing down the street with a big grin and no jacket.

"Afternoon, Mr. Rydell," the doorman said cheerfully as Dan finally stepped into Casey's building.

"Hi there, Harold. Merry Christmas," Dan replied with equal cheer. "I'd have brought you something, but I left my wallet in my therapist's office. Not my usual therapist, this is a new guy."

"Not a problem, sir, thank you." Harold walked him to the elevator and hit the up button. "Mr. McCall expecting you?"

"Nope," Dan said. "I can say with a fair amount of certainty that he's not expecting this at all."

"Sounds good," Harold laughed and waved Dan off as the elevator doors opened.

In contrast to the walk to the building, the walk down the hallway to Casey's door seemed much too short. He hadn't thought of what to say; he wasn't sure it mattered.

He rang the doorbell, then knocked for good measure. After a few seconds, he heard the floorboards inside creaking just before the bolts slid back.

"Danny," Casey said when the door opened. He looked amused and resigned and more tired than he should, and his usual smirk held a completely different meaning to Dan now. "I should have known."

"You should have," Dan agreed. "Hey, Case, do you know what day it is? And if you say Christmas, you're gonna be wrong."

Casey raised his eyebrows. "Well, I was pretty sure about Christmas, seeing as we both have the day off. Other than that, I got nothing. Why don't you just tell me?"

"It's our anniversary, Casey," he said and pushed Casey back into the apartment to kiss the confusion off his face for good.


End file.
